Page 83 of The Duchess Games

“I am the sole of discretion,” Ruby agreed. “I do not gossip about true things.”

“An interesting distinction.”

Ruby shrugged. “London runs on gossip. Now, what do you say?”

It was exactly what Cat needed, but it still felt odd to discuss such things with a London lady wearing all her finery in their weedy garden.

“It’s dangerous business,” she warned her. “The punishment for smuggling is hanging or transportation. Even for ladies, I imagine.”

Ruby scoffed. “There is equal danger in a London ballroom, only the dagger goes through your back unbidden.”

Cat shook her head. “This is not one of the duchess’s games.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Ruby asked quietly. “And do you think I don’t know how to hide or lie? My father, an earl full of his own esteem, is penniless. Entirely through his own doing, I might add. If you are terrible at gambling, you should find a new hobby.”

Viola stepped closer, offering comfort.

“And what’s the solution?” Ruby continued. “Marry me off to the highest bidder. I am not allowed to work, I have no useful skills beyond marrying well and making heirs. So let me do this. Because there is one more thing I can do, and that is to shop. Let me bring your lace to the most fashionable modistes in Town—because we both know Viola did not make it. They sell to women also trained to shop. Let us use their own blasted rules for our own good for once.”

“My, that is a rousing speech.”

“And without a dowry or marriage, we must find other means to make our way in the world,” Ruby pressed on, incensed. “I will take care of your sister.”

Viola nudged her. Hard. “We will take care of each other. And let your father and Mr. Armstrong keep their dainty women.”

Cat grinned. “Hear, hear.”

Perhaps it was madness to trust someone she knew so little about. But it was clear Viola was enamored and just as clear that Ruby had already been taking care of Viola, from horehound honey to dancing revenue men. And when the goat nibbled on the hem of her very elegant gown, she only smiled fondly. Seaweed was a very good judge of character. And fashion.

Cat withdrew one of the sealed letters from her pocket and handed it to Ruby. “Then I suppose you’ll need this.”

Ruby noticed the seal with some surprise. “Never say the duke is part of your operation.”

“He is not.”

“Ah.”

“Thank you, Cat,” Viola hugged her. “We won’t let you down.”

She returned the hug. “Just be happy. And write to me!”

Ruby paused before letting Viola show her the beach and her favorite spot to swim. “Oh, and Miss Sparrow?”

“Yes?”

“I won The Duchess Games.”

“Congratulations.”

“I think we tied,” Viola argued. “Or would have, had I not fallen ill.”

“Possibly. But the last dance of the night was mine.” Her smile was smug, pointed. “The duke was miserable.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

The Duke of Tremaine was covered in kittens.

It did not improve his disposition.